


'cause i am not what you found

by gaygreaser



Series: melancholy [2]
Category: The Outsiders (1983), The Outsiders - All Media Types, The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Genre: Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Homophobic Slurs, Implied underage drinking, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Unrequited Love, im always here for gay dallas who doesnt know hes gay, this feels horrendously cheesy i apologize, this is like.....twice as long as the last one im so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 04:03:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9367148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaygreaser/pseuds/gaygreaser
Summary: “I don’t even love you,” he’d spat out in response. “Who do you think you are? I could never love Johnny like that. That’s disgusting.”-Or: the fic where Dallas' reason for living in Johnny Cade, and Sodapop forces him to realize it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "In My Veins" by Andrew Belle.

Dallas has been listening to Darry rage on for the past hour.

Sodapop and Steve still aren’t back. As Darry had explained it to Dally, apparently a few hours ago, Soda and Steve had gone to pick up Ponyboy from wherever he was, but now Ponyboy is home, and Sodapop and Steve are not.

Dally doesn’t think of Darry as someone who would get mad about stupid, petty things, but even Dallas can acknowledge that this isn’t quite a stupid, petty thing. Darry had gotten so worried that at 4 am, he finally decided to call the rest of the greaser gang and get them to come over to the Curtis’ house. It’s 5 am now, and Ponyboy looks like he’s about to cry, and Johnny is staring into space, lips trembling, and Two-Bit looks like he’s going to break something - he’s squeezing that beer bottle awful hard - and Darry’s face is white.

They’re all scared. Well. Except Dally, of course, because he’s spent enough time in the cooler that he isn’t scared of teenage boys coming home late. Even if it's over 5 hours late.

“Calm down, guys,” says Dally, although he regrets saying it the minute Darry starts glaring at him. Darry is extremely terrifying when he’s mad at you. Dally has experienced the wrath of Darry far too many times.

“What do you _mean,_ calm down?” hisses Darry. “My baby brother is missing, with his idiot of a best friend, but I’m worried about them both, because I love them, God knows why. If they're both dead, then..."

Ponyboy shakes his head violently, clinging to Johnny’s sleeve. “Soda ain’t dead,” he says frantically. “He would never die.”

Dally, on the other hand, barely hears the last part of Darry’s sentence. He’s focused on “ _I love them.”_

Dally does not know what love is. He’s never experienced it. He wonders what it’s like to be so worried about someone, and all because of _love_. It sounds like a lot of hard work to Dally.

“If they’re not dead, I’ll kill them the minute they get back,” says Darry through gritted teeth. “Just because they think they’re mature enough, I mean, they’re still teenagers, they can’t take care of themselves…” He’s talking to himself at this point, and Dally has the decency to feel slightly concerned. He knows that Darry doesn't want to call the police; knows that Darry is scared of Sodapop and Ponyboy being sent to a boy's home to be taken care of by people they don't care about. 

Of course, it’s now that the door swings open. Steve’s hand remains on the inside of the door.

“Hey,” says Steve brightly, but Dally’s eyes wander to Sodapop.

He looks like he’s just been crying. His eyes are wide open as his gaze shifts around the room, refusing to make eye contact with anyone.

Both of them smell like alcohol. Way, way too much alcohol.

“What,” Darry says.

“What?” says Steve.

“Don’t try to play dumb,” Darry yells. “I was worried, we all thought you were dead!”

“I didn’t,” says Ponyboy, but Darry pays him no attention.

“I can’t believe you two would put me through that. First you lied to me yesterday. And you were both drinking _alcohol_ , if the way you smell is anything to go by _._ Now you show up in the MORNING after being gone for hours, I can’t imagine what would possess you – ”

“Darry,” says Sodapop, tears pooling in his eyes. “I know, okay?”

Darry stops shouting. Dally thinks that Darrel can probably tell, through his overwhelming anger and relief, that Soda is not okay.

“Okay,” says Darry, trying to sound less mad. “Where were you?”

Steve finally speaks up. “No idea,” is what he says. “We were both drunk, as you see. Sodapop, you ain’t got any idea of where we were, do you?”

“N-no,” says Sodapop, wiping his face. “Nothing.”

Everyone in the room can tell he’s lying, especially Ponyboy. Dally catches Pony’s raised eyebrows. Dallas might not understand love but he does recognize that Ponyboy and Sodapop are more familiar with each other more than anyone else in the world. Ponyboy is probably going to interrogate Soda later.

“You’re grounded, Sodapop,” says Darry. Sodapop walks to his room meekly. Ponyboy follows right behind. “And no calling Sandy!”

Steve’s face stiffens up. “I’m leaving,” he says. “My pops is probably _real_ worried for me.”

There’s pure, unadulterated hatred in his voice when he talks about his dad. Dally can kind of relate.

“Me too,” says Two-Bit sadly. Dally can tell that he isn’t in the mood to crack jokes or lighten any moods. “My mom was wondering why I got outta bed at 4 am, an’ she didn’t want me to go out on my lonesome. Told her it was an emergency.  Bye, gang.” He salutes as he leaves the house, and never mind, Two-Bit is _always_ in the mood to crack jokes. Except when people die, maybe.

He walks out of the house, closing the door behind him.

“Can I stay?” asks Johnny.

“Of course you can,” says Darry, face softening. Dally can kind of relate to that too. Johnny deserves to be looked at like he’s the sun and the moon and the stars. He doesn’t get nearly as good a life as he deserves.

“Can I stay too?” says Dally. Unlike Johnny, though, he doesn’t wait for an answer. He immediately walks to the bedroom, and flops onto the floor.

“Yes,” calls Darry from the other room. “I’ll be here.”

Dally hears footsteps, and Johnny arrives in the bedroom as well. “Hi, Dallas,” he whispers, trying for a smile.

Dally feels his heart clench, over and over in the span of four seconds.

“Hey, Johnnycake,” he says. “No need to talk all silent. Sodapop and Ponyboy ain’t asleep.”

“Yeah, we’re not,” Ponyboy calls. “But guys, can you both leave for again a minute? Soda wanted to tell me something.”

“Oh, yeah. Of course,” Johnny says, sounding apologetic. “C’mon, Dal.”

 _Dal._ Dally’s heart hurts once more. Johnny is so special, and, he just turns Dally’s world upside down, and Dallas really can’t comprehend why.

They both get up and walk back to Darry.

“Sorry, Darry, we’re back,” says Johnny. “Soda got something to tell Pony in private.”

“Goin’ to the bathroom,” mumbles Dally, walking away.

Of course, he’s not going to the bathroom. He’s headed towards Soda and Pony’s bedroom. To eavesdrop, of course. He won’t exactly say that he’s a good person, but he’s definitely a curious one. Maybe that’s part of why he’s not a good person. Curiosity killed the Winston.

He presses his ear to the door, and Pony and Soda’s voices are surprisingly clear.

“I remember what happened yesterday,” Sodapop says, voice shaking. “You can tell, right, Pony?”

Dally can almost hear Ponyboy rolling his eyes. “Of course I can, I’m your brother.”

“Don’t hate me when I tell ya, Pony,” begs Sodapop. It’s Dally’s turn to roll his eyes. They sound like two characters in a badly written soap opera. A soap opera with _greasers_ as the main characters. It’s pathetic. “It’s hard to imagine you hating me.”

“Don’t be dumb, Soda. I could never hate you. You’re you,” Ponyboy says, sounding impatient. _God, he’s so...14 years old._

Dally hears Sodapop swallow, loud and clear. “I got drunk, an’ found out Steve is jealous of Sandy. An’ I kissed him.”

Dally’s hand flies to his mouth, eyes wide. Sodapop kissed. Someone without a vagina?

Ponyboy’s voice goes funny. “You kissed _Steve?_ ”

Dally doesn’t understand. It’s not that Sodapop kissed Steve, it’s that Sodapop kissed a _boy_ . And Sodapop is a _boy._

“Over and over,” Sodapop replies, and now he sounds horrifyingly wistful. “Don’t think he remembers any of it.”

 _“Oh,”_ says Ponyboy gently.

“And,” Sodapop says, and now Dally can tell that he’s about to start crying, from the way his voice goes high-pitched. “I cheated on Sandy. I love her so much, an’...”

“Wow, Soda.” He doesn’t sound angry whatsoever at Soda for going behind his girlfriend’s back. He sounds awed.

Dally sinks to the ground, staring at the dirty brown floorboards. Sodapop kissed a boy. Sodapop did something disgusting, and illegal, not that Dally cares about that last part, but. Soda kissed a boy. He kissed a –

“Dallas?”

Dally’s head shoots up. _Johnny._

“Were you listening to their conversation?” asks Johnny.

“Nah,” says Dally, getting up. “Just on my way back from the bathroom. Let’s go in, I’m sure Sodapop and Ponyboy are done with their sappy confessions.

Johnny stares at him for a moment, and then cracks a grin. “Jeez, Dally. Okay, fine.”

Dally opens the door. “You guys done?” he asks.

“Yeah,” says Soda, looking up with red eyes. “You can come in if you wanna.”

Both Dally and Johnny sit down on the cold floor. “You okay, Soda?” Johnny asks tentatively.

“I will be, Johnny,” he says, sighing and turning over in the bed so he’s facing Ponyboy. “I will be.”

“Goodnight,” Ponyboy says.

“Goodnight,” Sodapop and Johnny repeat.

-

Dally wakes up at 11 am. From the looks of it, Johnny, Sodapop and Ponyboy woke up before him. He shrugs, making his way to the kitchen, where Ponyboy is trying to fry an egg while Sodapop takes chocolate cake out of the fridge.

“Morning, Dal,” says Johnny.

“Morning, Johnny,” he grunts in reply. “You too, Sodapop, Ponyboy, Darry.”

“Good morning, Dally,” says Darry, who’s sitting on a kitchen chair and flipping through the newspaper. “Though a very late morning. Sodapop, are you feeling any better? Feeling any less hungover from the alcohol that you weren’t actually allowed to drink?”

“Yeah, Darry,” says Sodapop.

“You ready to discuss what happened?” Darry says. “I hope you have a good explanation.”

“Not really,” says Sodapop with an easygoing shrug and an easy grin. “Me and Steve got drunk, forgot about coming back home, and that’s all there is to it. I feel bad that I lied to you and all, though.”

“It’s _Steve and I_ got drunk,” says Ponyboy, wincing the minute he says it. “Sorry, Soda, that slipped out.”

“Classic, Ponyboy,” laughs Sodapop. “Don’t worry about it. Wouldn’t want you any other way.”

They smile at each other, and then Darry clears his throat.

“I still don’t understand what happened,” he says. Dally glances at the ceiling, aware that it’s not his place to tell Darry about the disgusting _thing_ that Sodapop told Ponyboy about.

“I’ll tell you,” Sodapop says, still aiming for light hearted, but his voice is wobbling again. Dally and Johnny excuse themselves from the kitchen, glancing at the other as the Curtis brothers murmur among themselves.

“I’m worried about Soda,” says Johnny.

“‘Course you are, Johnny,” Dallas says carelessly, reaching out and ruffling Johnny’s hair. “You’re too nice, man.”

“Never seen him so sad, though,” mutters Johnny, but it’s more to himself than anyone.

As they step into Sodapop and Pony’s bedroom, both of them hear Darry’s loud sigh, “Oh, _Soda,”_ and the sound of relieved crying.

“Y’all can come back in if you want to,” calls out Soda through a sniffle.

“Comin’,” Dally and Johnny shout back, at the same time. They look at each other, then away from each other. Johnny looks back up a moment later, his tanned cheeks flushed.

They head back into the kitchen, where Sodapop is curled up on Darry’s lap, Ponyboy’s head leaning on Soda’s. It’s a bit painful to watch a family that care so much about each other. Dally, he hates everyone in his useless family, but seeing this makes him think of what he could have had if he was born as anyone other than Dallas Winston.

It’s fine, though. Living like this is the only reason he’s so rough. It’s also the only reason he’s still alive right now.

Johnny, of course, has a terrible family, but he cares about them anyways. There’s a longing look in his eyes as he looks at the scene splayed out before him.

“I’m goin’ for a walk, Darry,” Sodapop says, hopping off his older brother’s lap. “Might make me feel better.”

“You are going nowhere by yourself, Sodapop Curtis,” Darry says. “Dally, take him for a walk.”

“I’m not a _dog,_ Darry,” Sodapop says. “But yeah, I wouldn’t mind some time alone with Dally! I wanna talk to him about somethin’.” He smiles brightly at Dally, and it’s almost possible to believe that Soda hadn’t been crying only moments before.

God, emotions are so tedious. And so confusing. Dallas is so glad he doesn’t have them anymore.

-

“Dally,” Sodapop says, a cheerful note in his voice as the two of them stroll along the sidewalk. “I know you were listening to me and Pony talkin’ about what happened yesterday.”

Dallas doesn’t try to deny it. Sodapop’s too good at reading people, so of course he’ll be able to tell if Dally is lying. Anyways, Dallas is not a liar. Not most of the time, anyways, except maybe to the fuzz. “How?” is what he says instead.

“You’re not exactly quiet,” says Sodapop. “So, um, Dally. Uh. Since you heard, I mean. Um. ”

“I won’t hate you,” interrupts Dally. “But boys kissing boys is disgusting. Not you in particular, but it’s wrong.”

 _“Really,”_ says Sodapop. He doesn’t seem hurt at all. More like fascinated, for whatever reason. “What about Johnny?”

“What _about_ Johnny?” answers Dally, harsher than he intended to sound. He’s just a tad protective over Johnny.

“Oh,” says Sodapop. “Sorry, Dally. We can go back home. My mistake. You ain’t ready to have the talk I wanted to have yet.”

Sodapop has never seemed frightened of Dally. Ponyboy is an entirely different case, but like Darry, Sodapop just sees Dally as a cool criminal. After all, he’s been in jail dozens of time, and he’s hard like ice. It’s hard not to be impressed by Dally. What’s actually weird is Soda’s lack of fear of Dally, demonstrated in the way he speaks to him.

“Okay,” Dally mutters.

They head back to the Curtis household.

-

“Thanks for letting me stay,” Johnny’s saying and Soda and Dally push their way into the house. “I’d better get to my date today.”

“You got a date? Cool, Johnny!” says Soda, holding out his hand for a high five. Dally could swear that the next second, Sodapop throws a concerned look his way, but Dally doesn’t get why. Doesn’t get why at all. He’s happy for Johnny. He’s happy for the girl who’s going on a date with Johnny. Happy. He’s happy.

“Yeah, she’s great,” Johnny says. His eyes are shining. “We started talking the other day and she’s real easy to talk to. I didn’t get all scared like I do talkin’ to most girls. I wasn’t gonna say anything about it, but the date’s in an hour, so I’m gonna go. Dally, you coming?” he adds.

“Yes,” Dally forces out.

There’s a strong taste of bile in his mouth.

“A date, huh?” he asks as they head out, waving at the Curtises. “Greaser or Soc? You better say greaser, buddy, you can’t trust them Soc girls.”

“She’s a Soc, Dally,” admits Johnny reluctantly.

“Wow, Johnny,” Dally groans, though his mind is a million miles away from greasers and Socs.

“Dal?” Johnny says. “I’m real sorry. I won’t go on the date if you don’t want me to, but she’s one amazing broad. Doesn’t act Soc-y.”

“Just never thought you’d be going on a date, Johnny,” says Dally. “Gals don’t ask you out too often, do they?”

“Sylvia was hangin’ off me once, remember?” Johnny says, and Dally flinches as if Johnny slapped him. He recalls all too clearly the day when he found out that Sylvia had been flirting with Johnny. He remembers seeing red, and being blindingly mad, not at Johnny, but at Sylvia, but that was wrong because he should have been mad at Johnny, but how could Dally ever be mad at Johnny Cade? Dallas had found Sylvia and punched her and a fight ensued between them.

_\-- “What is it?” Sylvia had panted as Dally stomped on her face. “Why you so protective over your Johnny?”_

_“He’s not_ my Johnny _,” Dally had growled angrily. “Just stop flirting with my best friends, alright? Especially Johnny.”_

_“Oh, I see now,” Sylvia had smirked. “You’re in love with him. You’re such a fag, Dallas.” Dally recalls it clear as if it was yesterday, her lipstick smeared on her left cheek, her eyeliner all over her eyelids as he kicked her face again._

_“I don’t even love_ you _,” he’d spat out in response. “Who do you think you are? I could never love Johnny like that. That’s disgusting.” --_

“Don’t let the date go like the thing with Sylvia, alright?” Dally says. “That’s all I ask.”

“Yeah, Dally,” answers Johnny. “I’ll be careful.”

“Johnny,” Dally says suddenly. “You ever loved anyone? In any way?”

“I love my parents,” says Johnny, so quickly that Dally’s not sure he said it. “And the gang.”

“Not me,” says Dally.

“The whole gang, Dallas,” Johnny says. “Y’all are like a family to me.”

“You don’t love me,” says Dally. “I’m not exactly easy to love.”

“You’re part of the gang,” Johnny says. “That’s enough. Just cause you don’t love, Dally, doesn’t mean people don’t love you.”

Both of them are blushing, Johnny out of embarrassment and Dally because this is the awkwardest conversation he’s ever had including the one he once had with a cop about the color of the socks he stole. But awkward conversation or no awkward conversation, this situation is just wrong. Dallas Winston doesn’t blush, he beats up kids and robs stores.

“Well,” Johnny says as they arrive at the movie house. “My date’s gonna come soon. Thanks for everything, Dally.”

Dally takes the hint and says goodbye, heading towards the empty lot that he sleeps in sometimes. It’s not as bad as it sounds. The conditions are definitely better than New York’s, anyways.

He sits down in the lot and his head flops into his arms.

“What’s wrong with me?” he asks his legs.

They don’t reply.

“Hey, Dally.”

“Argh!” Dally almost screams, before quickly composing himself. “Sodapop? You? What’s up?”

“I knew you’d be here,” Soda says, sitting next to him. “You okay?”

Dally’s harsh laugh is enough of an answer.

“What’s wrong?” Soda asks.

“I don’t _fucking_ know,” says Dally, before releasing a stream of curse words.

“You done?” Sodapop says when Dally pauses.

“Yeah. The world – is so ugly – ”

“The world ain’t ugly,” Sodapop says, “Though it’d be even better if I didn’t cry so much. I get hurt too easy. Sometimes I wish I was all hard an’ rough like you.”

“You don’t wish that,” says Dally, eyes stinging as he keeps them focused on the peeling gray paint on the walls of the lot. He doesn’t need a response. It’s the truth that joyful, cheerful Soda would never want to be unfeeling and broken like Dally is. “Hey, kid,” he says. “What’s _wrong_ with me?” And here he is, asking a boy he’s not close to, a question as personal as “what’s wrong with me?”

“Huh?” Sodapop says. “Nothin’’s wrong with you, Dally. You’re just a little twisted. Also, I’m not a kid, alright?” He says the last part tiredly; probably because Sodapop is real sensitive about his age.

“Okay,” Dally says. “What’s love?”

Sodapop’s eyes immediately glaze over. “Love,” he says. “Is hard to explain if you haven’t felt it yourself, but I’m sure you have, Dally. You ever had a clenchy feelin’ in your chest? Like you would die without the other person? That’s how I feel about my brothers an’ Sandy an’ the gang. You dig?”

“And Steve?” says Dally, and he means it to come out spitefully, but it comes out ridiculously sympathetic instead.

“Sure,” says Sodapop, wincing. “Steve.” His mouth turns downwards, and for a minute Dally’s scared that Soda’s going to start crying again and _Dally cannot deal with tears dammit._ Luckily, he doesn’t. Instead, he asks the question that Dally’s been dreading for the past few minutes. “Why’re you all interested in love all of a sudden? Who d’you think you love? Sylvia?”

Johnny’s face flashes through Dally’s mind, and he tries desperately to erase the thought, tries desperately to think of Sylvia instead, but Johnny’s still there, burning  into his mind.

But there’s a smug look in Sodapop’s eye and Dallas has the feeling that Soda is aware of who Dally thinks he might love.

“Not Sylvia,” says Dally, swallowing. “Someone...else.”

“Do you love him like a friend or the same way I love Sandy?” Soda asks softly.

“I got no idea,” Dally says, and he doesn’t. And God, it’ll be so disgusting and so, so wrong if he likes Johnny the way Soda likes Sandy. It would be illogical. Boys who like boys are the type of people that Dallas Winston beat up in New York. He can’t be one of those boys who like boys. He can’t live like that.

-

Dally is at a library.

See, if you asked him why he’s at a library, you’d draw a blank stare. Why he’s at a library isn’t a concept he himself understands all that well. However, a concept he does understand is the fact that Tim Shepard is 3 aisles away from him, in the “fiction” section. Dally wants to go up to Tim and make fun of him for being in a library, but he’s not exactly in a position to make fun of people for going to libraries. Especially since he’s in the “illegal activities” section of the library, reading up on homosexuality.

The books drip with hatred and disgust for homosexuals. Reading up more and more, Dally understands why, but at the same time, the black and white pictures in the book of boys kissing, the pictures with a big red X on them, are giving him some kinda creepy fuzzy feeling, and it’s not one that he’d ever hoped to experience in his life. Especially not over something like this. He likes girls. He likes Sylvia. He likes girls. He likes Sylvia. Kissing Sylvia is like kissing a wet fish, and he’s tried both. He likes other girls.

He likes Johnny more.

He flees from the library, forgetting all about Tim Shepard, sprinting all the way to the Curtis house, knocking loudly, and when Darry opens, Dally staggers in, runs to the bathroom and vomits into the sink.

He’s shivering, and he’s paler than usual, and he feels like shit, and he wants to die.

Darry opens the door. “Dally?” he says, disbelief coloring his voice. “Are you okay?”

Dally is horrified when he touches his cheeks and feels very real tears trailing down. _No. I’m a gross homosexual mess._

“Don’t get why everyone’s asking me that,” he replies instead. “Sorry for busting in, and all the vomit, man. I’ll clean up.”

“Is there something you need, Dally?” asks Darry, and his voice is surprisingly gentle.

“If Johnny’s finished his date,” says Dally. “Then I need Johnny. But you ain’t gotta go to any trouble.”

“Ponyboy,” shouts Darry. Ponyboy appears in the hallway as if by magic.

“What, Darry?”

“Could you go bring Johnny if he’s done with his date? Dally needs him now.”

“Whaaat? Why?” he complains. Then he looks at Dally, and his expression changes to one of concern. “Hey, you okay?”

“I’m fucking _fine,_ ” snaps Dally. “I’m incredible, wonderful, fucking _on top of the world._ ”

“Dally,” says Darry, his tone dangerous. “Don’t use that language in front of Ponyboy.”

“I’m not ten years old,” says Ponyboy under his breath. “I’ll get Johnny if you honest to goodness need him. I don’t have anything to do, anyways. This is the worst winter break I’ve ever – ”

“Ponyboy, hurry up,” pleads Darrel.

“Sorry, Darry.” He hurries out of the house.

Darry and Dally stand there for a couple of minutes, just looking at each other, Dally covered in vomit and Darry shocked at the signs of real emotion in the younger boy.

“Need some clean clothes?” says Darry finally.

“Would be nice, yeah,” agrees Dally. He yawns, mentally exhausted, as Darry leaves the bathroom. Dally starts scraping the vomit from the sink into the toilet.

Then he hears the door swing open and abandons his work. He runs, hoping it’s Johnny and Ponyboy, though he knows full well that it would’ve been impossible to go all the way to the movie house and back in a matter of minutes.

It’s not Johnny and Ponyboy, it’s Steve and Sodapop. They’re laughing together, and having a thumb wrestling competition, and Sodapop’s eyes are impossibly bright.

And for the millionth time – Dally’s starting to wonder if he has heart problems of some sort – Dally’s heart lurches as he watches the two of them. He wonders, for just a moment, how they made up, and whether they’re just friends or something more now.

“Dally?” says Sodapop, finally noticing the older boy just standing there. “What’s up?”

“Just vomited into your bathroom sink, not much,” Dally says casually. “You?”

Sodapop opts to ignore Dally and gets back to his thumb wrestling competition with Steve.

“I hate ya both,” grumbles Dally, and he walks slowly back to the bathroom to continue cleaning out his vomit. He hears  the door of the house slam, and a few minutes later, Darry arrives at the bathroom with a clean shirt that seems about Dally’s size.

“Thanks, man.” Dally pulls off his old shirt and puts on the new one. He hesitates, then adds: “Hey, Darry, you got any breath mints? I’m feeling gross. All I can taste is vomit, man.” He's not used to asking for favours all the time. It feels foreign. Darry goes into the kitchen to get a mint, and when he returns, hands it to Dally, who immediately pops it into his mouth and begins to suck.

Of course, that’s when there’s another knock at the door; it’s the arrival of Johnny and Ponyboy, Dally assumes, and that’s why he’s terrified. Dally’s not sure he can face Johnny after discovering that he’s in love with him.

Knowing that he loves Johnny the strangest thing in the world. It’s also the most exhilarating.

Darry and Dally walk to the door, and Darry opens it.

Johnny’s right there, a picture of beauty and fear and everything that Dally’s never realized that he couldn’t survive without, the embodiment of ephemeral, and that’s just cruel irony, isn’t it? Because Dallas Winston is very real and very broken, and very, very in love with Johnny Cade.

All his pent up emotions are hitting him in the face like waves crashing far too hard in a tsunami, but it is not a tsunami he is going to survive because Dally plus feelings equals total disaster every single time.

“Hey, kid,” he says, his voice hoarse. “Hope I didn’t interrupt your date.”

“It’s okay,” says Johnny simply. “Pony said you needed me. What’s up?”

“Hey, let’s go somewhere more private,” Dallas says, feeling sick and terrible and he’d be ready to die if Johnny wasn’t right there, reminding Dally that he has a reason to live.

One reason.

It is a very important reason, though.

-

“So, for more privacy, we’re sitting in the bathroom,” says Johnny.

“That is right,” says Dally dryly. “It’s the only place I thought of. I got a question to ask you.”

And Dally’s original question _was_ , “how did your date go?” but the sentence that comes out of his mouth is “what d’you think of me?”

Johnny’s answer is abrupt and lacks any hesitation. “I think you’re gallant, Dal. You’re amazing. And,” he scratches his chin thoughtfully, “You’re a little vulnerable. When you came to Tulsa, an’ Two-Bit asked if you wanted to join our gang, you were so hardened from jail an’ all, but I asked you if you were okay. ‘Cause you seemed all broken up from so much time in the cooler. To this day…” Johnny swallows. “I really hope you’re alright, is all.”

“I will be, Johnny,” Dally says, mimicking Sodapop’s words from just the other day. “I will be.”

And then he kisses Johnny.

He kisses Johnny like it’s the last time he’ll ever kiss anyone, like Sylvia doesn’t exist and all the rest of the girls and the boys have disappeared off of the universe, and like Johnny is oxygen that saves Dally when he can’t breathe, which isn’t so far from the truth. Colors dance behind his eyes. The sun explodes, leaving the Earth in ruins, but that’s okay, isn’t it, just as long as Dally is kissing Johnny.

When he stops kissing Johnny, the universe goes back to being dull, black and white shades blurring together.

Johnny seems shell-shocked.

“ _Dallas,_ ” he says.

“Sorry,” grunts Dally. “That was a mistake. Gotta go meet Sylvia.”

“Dal, I’m so...”

“I know. I’m terrible. _Fuck,_ Johnny, why do you make everything so hard?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize all the time! Goddamnit.” He glares at the traces of vomit that remain in the sink, willing them to disappear. “How’d your date go?” he asks now.

“Real good, Dally,” says Johnny quietly. “I’m sorry. I can’t...I just...I like her a lot.”

“S’okay.” Forget about the vomit disappearing, Dallas wants to disappear _himself._

“Dal,” Johnny says. “It’s okay. Okay?”

“Okay,” says Dally, knowing full well that nothing is okay and nothing will ever be okay again. Dally only just found out today that he’s in love with Johnny Cade, and Dally also only found out today that there’s a Soc who Johnny likes, and she’s a _girl_ with money and a past that isn’t full of violence, and it’s ridiculous, is what it is.

Shit timing, too.

“Hey,” Johnny says, all calm, and Dally realizes then that he’s about to change the subject. “You ever seen a sunset?”

“Nah.”

“They’re pretty. All gorgeous colors and stuff. It’ll be happenin’ around now. C’mon, let’s watch it.”

“There ain’t nothing pretty in the universe,” sighs Dally, aware that he sounds like a whiny kid. “You got a cancer stick, Johnny? I’d rather spend the evening smoking then watching some sissy sunset.”

“Please, let’s watch a sunset,” pleads Johnny. “Do it for me.”

And that’s when Dally shuts up, and the entire world goes silent. “For you,” he says eventually. “But no one else.”

Johnny throws him another soft smile, and Dally feels his heart twist for the millionth time, painfully and clearly.

 


End file.
